The VERY Secret Diary of Domovoi Butler
by Tora and TheEvilestGirlChild
Summary: We had our fangirl minions dig this out of the Fowl family trash. It smelled. A lot. But it was a good read. Something we absolutely HAD to post on FanFiction for all those Butler fans out there.
1. Chapter 1

**Tora: Our fangirl minions dug this out of the Fowl Family's trash. Apparently Butler had been keeping a secret diary for the past couple of months. It's very…interesting. **

Dear Diary,

Artemis has managed to persuade me to keep a dairy. So I immediately headed to the nearest bookstore to pick one up. Unfortunately, all that was left was this frilly pink monstrosity with the word "hottie" printed in gold stitching on the cover. I told the clerk it was for my sister. He didn't believe me.

Dear Diary,

In order to salvage what's left of my masculinity, I'm going to start calling this thing a journal.

Dear Journal,

I wish Artemis would stop keeping all the details of his plans from me. He never tells anyone his secrets and he gets all giddy right before the big reveal (you can see it in his eyes) It's like he's like a frickin' magician or something.

Dear Journal,

I found out that Artemis keeps his journal on the computer. If only I had thought of that before I bought this fluffy piece of crap.

Dear Journal,

I don't know how Artemis gets away with calling it a "diary". I called my journal a diary out loud the other day and Juliet laughed at me.

Dear Journal,

Juliet laughed at me again. I'm erasing "diary" from my vocabulary.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Journal,

I found Artemis's cell phone on the kitchen counter the other day. It took me almost thirty minutes, but I managed to change his speed dial so number one would be Joe's Pizza Palace.

Dear Journal,

The ring tone on my cell phone was mysteriously changed from vibrate to the song "Hollaback Girl" by Gwen Stefani. It went off as I was watching television with Juliet. She laughed at me.

Dear Journal,

That Artemis! I can't believe he would change my ring tone! Well…no matter. I have an even better revenge planned for him…hehehe…

Dear Journal,

I posted the number of Artemis's cell phone on the internet. So far he's gotten over two hundred calls in eight different languages.

Dear Journal,

Artemis posted _my_ cell number on the internet. I couldn't figure out how to change my ring tone back to normal. The lyrics of "Hollaback Girl" still ring fresh in my mind. I kind of like Gwen's music. Maybe I'll download her new CD onto i-tunes.

Dear Journal,

I'm getting tired of these endless calls by my fangirls (and some fanguys too…). And I still can't figure out how to change my cell's ring tone. It's like my cell phone hates me…


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Journal,

I've decided to buy a new cell phone. I don't think I can stand listening to "Hollaback Girl" one more time.

"This shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!" Argh!!! Get out of my head Gwen Stefani! Get out!

Dear Journal,

It took me several days to find a new cell phone. Apparently, the only color any of the local electronic stores had in stock was pink. First my journal, and now this. It's like God _wants _me to be gay.

Dear Journal,

I broke a weight machine at the gym today. They made me pay for a new one. I can't see why they would. It's not like it's my fault that machine could not handle the awesome power of my incredibly large biceps.

Dear Journal,

Today was a day off for me. Artemis had been working in the lab so we stayed in. I don't really have anything to do but sit around. I refused to pay for the weight machine back at the gym. They cancelled my membership.

Dear Journal,

Artemis hasn't finished his little "experiment" as of yet. So basically I've spent the past week:

Eating

Sleeping

Working out in the Manor's fitness center (I liked the gym better)

Reading romance novels

Fantasizing about romance novels

Helping Juliet out in the kitchen

I need a new hobby.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Journal,

Juliet almost caught me writing in my diary today. I was sitting at the kitchen table with the fluffy monster (my diary) sitting open on top. All of a sudden she barged in. I bent over my diary as I faked a sneeze. Thankfully, I don't think she saw it.

Dear Journal,

I had to resort to writing in the second floor master bath. Juliet keeps walking in a room while I'm writing. It has been at least twelve times where she barged in on me. She thinks I'm catching a cold.

Dear Journal,

I dropped this diary in the toilet. Now, not only does it LOOK like crap, it SMELLS like it too.

Dear Journal,

I've decided to take up golfing. Mr. Fowl and I now visit the golf club every Sunday. Artemis usually tags along with his laptop. I'm not too sure what all these clubs are used for, but I'm willing to learn.

Dear Journal,

I ROCK at golf. With my rippling muscles of steel, I can hit the ball into the hole in only two shots. I beat Mr. Fowl by at least a fifty points. I'm going to face some of his golf club mates next weekend.

Dear Journal,

I beat all of his friends. I do have one weakness though. Putting. One time I tried to putt the ball into the ninth hole…it flew into the air and hit one of Mr. Fowl's mates in the eye. Needless to say he was out the rest of the game.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Journal,

Around the club people have been saying I'm the next Tiger Woods…whoever that is. I don't care though. I'm so awesome at golf.

Dear Journal,

I tried to run this journal through the washer and dryer to get rid of the smell….it didn't really work. Now all these pages are wrinkled.

Dear Journal,

Still awesome at golf.

Dear Journal,

I lost my favorite romance novel: Detective XXX. It's not really romance. More just straight up sex. All the time. And I will never live it down if Juliet is the one to find it.

Dear Journal,

I found my novel…under Artemis's pillow. Don't ask me why I search his room…daily. I won't tell you.

Dear Journal,

I've been thinking about WHY Artemis had my novel under his pillow. It could just be because he's going through puberty and finally becoming a man. My little baby is growing up…it makes me want to cry….I mean (ahem) punch him in the back and congratulate him on becoming an adult in a gruff, manly voice.

Dear Journal,

I've become the best golfer at the club. I think I'll enter the tournament they're hosting two weeks from now. I will definitely win.


End file.
